


The Mating Project

by jonnyluvssherlock



Series: Cock Slut John [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Beads, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BAMF Lestrade, Bottom John Watson, Evil Mycroft, Forced Feminization, Forced Public Sex, Forced Relationship, Government Experimentation, Human Experimentation, Humiliation, Isolation, Kidnapping, M/M, Medical Experimentation, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Mind Manipulation, Morse Code, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Not so happy ending, Object Insertion, Protective Sherlock, Psychotropic Drugs, Public Humiliation, Public Sex, Puppy Play, Rape Aftermath, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sensory Deprivation, Sex Toys, Top Sherlock, Unreliable Narrator, butt plug, dildo, forced hormonal therapy, forced object insertion, forced puppy play, forcing mating, reducing person to animal instincts, use of bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-29
Updated: 2015-04-27
Packaged: 2018-03-09 00:54:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3230096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jonnyluvssherlock/pseuds/jonnyluvssherlock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Sherlock have been kidnaped and are being forced to participate in a sick experiment.  Despite every thing thats happened John feels as long as they have each other everything will be ok, but will their minds and bodies be able to take what is happening to them?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> there are a lot of tags for this fic. i want people to really read them before starting because this fic might trigger people. in this fic John and Sherlock will have forced body modifications including hormonal therapy. they will also be kept on drugs that alter there minds. this fic came from a dark and twisted place (i didn't know i had). 
> 
> specializedinomniscience is my beta for this fix
> 
> Note: Please do not redistribute my fanfiction on other archives or sites such as goodreads or ebooks tree without my express permission.

It had been two days since they were taken. Two days in hell with almost all of his senses cut off from him. He and Sherlock had been in a cab, stopped at a red light when the car was surrounded and they were pulled out and thrown into a van. Their ankles and wrist had been bound before eye masks and noise-cancelling headphones were put on them. John had pushed himself as close to Sherlock as possible in an effort not to lose him. Sherlock typed Morse code into his palm, trying to reassure him that someone would have seen their abduction and that help would be on the way. 

 

He did not know how long they had traveled, but they were suddenly pulled from the van. He could feel Sherlock being forced along side him and then he was gone. John was stripped and forced to sit in a seat-less chair. His ankles had been tied to each leg and his arms to the arms rest. From what he could feel, the chair was wooden, straight backed, and smooth to the touch. The room was frigid and odorless. Static suddenly filled his headphones, blocking any noise that might have leaked in. From his position, he assumed they were going to torture him. He was wrong.

 

A thick piece of fabric was slipped around his neck like a collar while his left arm was held down and a needle inserted. He tried to fight back, but his assailant was too strong. He felt the liquid fill his veins and waited for something to happen. The needle stayed in place but he felt no adverse effects, so he assumed they must had put him on an IV.

 

He braced himself for whatever would come next, but he did not expect a hand on his arse. It slipped between his cleft and then pressed against his hole. John gritted his teeth and tried to clench enough to hinder its entrance. He felt a painful pinching on his balls and gasped for air. The finger took advantage of his shock to push inside him. It rammed in and out for a few minutes and then vanished. He felt something larger pushing at him in its place. He tried to keep it out, but they attacked his balls again. He felt something foreign and cylindrical being forced into him.

 

The chair abruptly swung backwards and John felt water filling him. Horror stuck him when he realized they had shoved a hose inside him. He struggled against his bindings, but it was no use. He was forced full of water and then the hose was pulled out of him. He felt humiliated knowing what had to have been pouring out of him along with the water. Then chair swung back into its original position.

 

John noticed he was feeling light-headed and he realized he could not move his limbs. He sat there, head sagging forward, as he felt something push against his hole again. He tried to fight it, but he was too weak. Slowly, a thin object with a rounded head was pushed into him. When it was fully embedded, he felt an affectionate pat on the head. Then the object started to slowly thrust in and out of him. He groaned at the odd feeling and tried to force it out of himself.

 

For two days, he had been kept almost entirely in that chair, apart from the few moments when he was laid out on the floor. He always had something inside of him. Anytime he had to walk, he was forced to crawl on his hands and knees. He felt mortified, being reduced to a plaything. He also felt apprehensive about what they could be doing to Sherlock.

 

\---

 

On his second day, he had a tube forced down his nose to be fed through. What, by his assumption, was every morning, he was forced to crawl the short distance to his chair and then was strapped into it. The IV was always in him, he had concluded that they were drugging him with some type of sedative. His mind rebelled, but his body was uncooperative. After he had been put in the chair, the hose was put in to clean him again, and then what could only be a dildo was shoved into him. They got slightly bigger every day and someone always caressed his head when it was fully inside him. All day he would sit in his chair while it thrust in and out of him. 

 

His body ached from constantly being in the same position, and his arse throbbed from the constant invasion. When they took the dildo out, they put something smaller in its place and he was forced to keep it in him while he slept. His captors communicated with him by tapping on his shoulder: once for up, twice for down. If he did not follow their commands right away, they would beat him.

 

To keep his mind from failing him, he would recite names in his head. He would remind himself that he was ‘John Hamish Watson, address 221 B Baker Street. I live with Sherlock Holmes, Consulting Detective. I am a doctor and former soldier. We help the police on cases. Our landlady is Mrs. Hudson.’ All day, repeatedly, he recited names and facts, trying to keep as much of his mind alive as he could.

 

\----

 

It felt like weeks had passed. When he laid down to sleep, he felt that he had lost a lot of weight and almost all of his muscle mass, most likely due to the fact that he was living on an entirely liquid diet and was unable to exercise. He had learned to be compliant so he would not be beaten again. . They disliked it when he spoke, so he held his tongue. Whether it was to sit in his chair or kneel on the floor so he could be walked about, he obeyed every single command. He still heard no sign of Sherlock and feared he was dead.

 

One day, his nipples started to ache and, when he touched them, he noticed that his chest felt swollen. He presumed that they had put him on female hormones, but he was not having a decrease in erections, in fact, if anything, they were getting worse. He seemed to get hard just from being put in his chair. The hand that patted his head now started doing it whenever he got hard as well as when he took a new dildo all the way to the hilt. It was degrading, yet it was all he could think about. 

 

He wanted to be stretched and fucked by the toy. He felt bliss from every orgasm and sadness when all he had in him was the smaller toy. He hated to admit it, but he would do anything to be sitting in his chair again. It had to be the drugs they were giving him. They were changing how he felt and thought. He no longer even cared if he escaped. 

 

\---

 

John was panting after his second orgasm of the day. The dildo inside him continued to thrust in and out of him at a measured pace. When it stopped, he keened and tried to fuck himself on it. A hand settled on his hip and he froze. The toy was removed and his legs and arms unbound. 

 

He waited for the pat on the shoulder to tell him to move. It was given and he got onto his hands and knees. Once there, a hand rested on his hip and turned him. Unused to the gesture, he followed it anyway, not wanting to insight his captors’ wrath. Both of his arms were grabbed and placed on something wooden. He assumed it was his chair. His hands were moved until they reached the back, and then his arms were re-strapped to the chair. Hands settled on either side of his hips and gently lifted him until he was on his knees, his arse presented to the room.

 

Something hard settled on top of his head. He took it as a threat and stayed where he was. Hands, different then the ones before, one with colder, longer fingers, settled on his arse. They grazed down his thighs, as if trying to sooth him. One finger edged its way to the cleft of his arse before his cheeks were pulled apart and he felt something round and wet against his hole. He did not fight back, just stayed where he was and waited to be breached.

 

It was slow, and the object was small. He worried it would get lost inside him. When it was fully inserted, he squeezed around it to feel it fully. Another round object was pressed to him, larger this time. It was pushed in and then the cold hands squeezed the back on his thighs, as if complimenting him on being able to take both objects. Over and over round objects were put into him, each slightly larger then the last. He felt full, but in a good way. The hands stayed on his thighs, soothing him while the hard object was still pressed into the top of his head.

 

Lips pressed to his arse and no more objects were put into him, so he assumed he was done. He did not try to push them back out of himself. Instead, he clenched tightly to keep them in place. His arms where freed and he was slowly eased back. Then someone led him to the spot on the floor where he found his blanket. He curled up under it and tried to sleep.

 

John was awoken by the feeling that his guts where being pulled out through his arse. He clamped down tight and felt a hand on his thigh. Knowing they wanted him to relax, he calmed himself and did as he was ordered. The pulling sensation started again, but, this time, he felt each round object leaving him. They had to have been attached by a string, which someone had pulled out. John let them do as they liked. He was forgetting the names, forgetting who he was. All that remained was Sherlock.

 

\---

 

John was now positive that he was developing breast. When he touched them, he felt that they were about palm size. If he was being given enough female hormones to grow breasts that large, he should not be getting erections anymore. His balls should have also shrunk. He only had touch to go by, but he was not feeling any change in fat distribution. Not that he had any anymore. It seemed the only change was to his chest.

 

\---

 

With every moment stuck in an isolated world, he felt his mind leaving him. He still worried about Sherlock’s welfare, but that was it. He no longer cared if he ever left. In fact, he was starting to forget a time before he had been there. The IV had been removed and they no longer strapped him to the chair. He sat in it, not moving all day. He had tried to jerk himself off a few times, but had been beaten for it. They also had started attaching strange cups to his chest. They seemed to pull at his nipples. The only thing he could imagine it would be was a breast pump, but what reason could they have for putting one on him?

 

Over time, John got used to his routine. Even being fondled at the end of the day while the person put the balls in his arse. It had actually become the best part of his schedule. The way the person touched him was nice. They were gentle, never pushing him to fast. He felt cared for when they touched him. They always ended it by kissing his arse. He did not understand the gesture, but he craved it.

 

John realized he wanted to do well for his captor. Because of his good behavior so far, they had started feeding him solid food. Once a day he was spoon-fed, but the tube in his nose stayed put. Consuming actual food was helping him put on a little much-needed weight.

 

\---

 

John woke one morning to a gentle prodding to his shoulder. A hand dipped to his arse and the toy inside him was pulled out. He laid waiting for the command to move. When it was given, he found himself crawling a longer distance then he was used to. When he was stopped, he reached out for the chair, but found it gone. Fingers spread him open and the hose was reinserted. Water filled him once again, but before he could empty himself, a bucket was pushed between his legs. After he was done evacuating himself, he was left completely alone. John stayed as still as possible, fearing he was being tested.

 

Hands grasped his hips. He recognized them as the cold hands that he felt at the end of each day. Lips brushed the base of his spine and then skin touched the back of his thighs. It felt like a pair of legs, as if the person was naked, kneeling behind him. His collar was grabbed and his head was pulled back.

 

He expected a toy to be pushed into him, but instead, he felt something different. As it pushed into him, he realized it was a cock. His body welcomed it inside after being taught to accept anything that was forced into it. His cock hardened. By the time the man’s pelvis was flush with his arse, it was dripping pre-cum. There was a pause and he felt a hand caressing his head. He suddenly felt good for what was being done to him. 

The hand lingered and he felt his headphones and eye mask being removed for the first time in months. He blinked at the sudden light. The room was not too bright, but what light there was hurt after so long in darkness. He looked up and realized he was positioned in front of a mirror. 

 

He hardly recognized the man in front of him. He was thinner than he had ever been and breasts fell from his chest. His hair had grown longer, but his face was bare, despite not having remembered shaving. There was a large form moving over him. They had pale skin and dark, wild hair. When they pulled their head up, John realized two things. One, that they wore matching collars that were attached by a chain running between them, and two, that the man was Sherlock. 

 

A hand tapped Sherlock and he pulled almost all the way out of John before thrusting back in. He rutted into John in a fast, clumsy way. When he bent his head again, his mouth was near John’s ear he heard him murmuring, ‘mine’, repeatedly. Part of John was shocked and another part of him was grateful. Sherlock was alive. Sherlock!!!!!

 

John gasped as Sherlock hit his prostate. Lips descended onto his shoulder and he felt Sherlock smiling against his skin. He pushed back into him, trying to get more pressure on his prostate and was rewarded by several hard thrusts in the exact right spot. John knew he was going to cum soon, he stared at Sherlock in the mirror and when their eyes met, he came. He saw Sherlock shutter and after a few more thrust he came inside him.

 

After their collars where detached, a new plug was placed in John and he and Sherlock were allowed to curl up together on his blanket. Sherlock wrapped his arms about John tight and held him close. For the first time in what seemed like forever, John felt wonderful.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more forced bode modifications as well as misgendering. John is being turned into a female in certain ways and his captors dare assholes in the way they address him.

John woke a while later to find Sherlock watching him. He looked as rough as John did, too thin and his skin ghostly white. Unlike John, Sherlock had not been forced to grow breasts. However, when John felt Sherlock’s cock against his thigh, he noticed it was much larger then a normal person’s. It seemed to have grown two to three inches and the girth was almost too big for his hand.

 

John opened his mouth to speak, but Sherlock put a finger against his lips and shook his head. John nodded. They settled down together, their arms wrapped around each other. Then John felt a tapping on his back. Sherlock was speaking to him in code. John smiled and pressed his face into Sherlock’s chest.

 

The message said, ‘keep you safe, mine, I won’t let you be hurt.”

 

John was glad to know that he was not alone.

 

Now that John could see the room he was being kept in, he realized that there were two chairs in it with a box of contraptions placed next to each one. Sherlock’s chair had a full bottom, unlike his, and none of the things in his box were for penetrating someone. He recognized one of the items as a flesh light. He had seen it in a sex-toy shop with Sherlock. They had gone in for a case when a woman who worked there had tried to sell him one. The chairs were facing each other and John grasped that if Sherlock had not been wearing his mask, he would have seen all of the things they had done to him.

 

For a little while, he did not want to think about what was going to happen to them next. He just wanted to enjoy his moment of peace with his most important person. As long as they could curl together, they could be happy.

 

John’s routine changed over night. When the guards came in to wake them, instead of being put in their chairs, Sherlock was tasked with putting larger and larger dildos into John’s arse. Then John was forced to parade around the room while keeping them inside. If they slipped out, he was punished. If Sherlock did not get them inside him quick enough for their liking, John was punished. Even when Sherlock covered John’s body with his own, they would just pry Sherlock off him and beat him harder. Sherlock also had the task of putting on John’s breast pumps every day. He always grimaced when he did it, looking at John as if apologizing for his compliance with the forced modifications of his body.

 

If they were good and completed their tasks, Sherlock was allowed to mount and fuck John. It was always a quick, rough shag. The two of them mostly rutted against each other in a desperate need to be close. John craved the sensation of being claimed by Sherlock. Their captors would always laugh at them when they fucked. Sometimes they would call them dogs.

 

When John could fit a dildo the width of a man’s fist all the way inside himself and keep it in while he walked around the room, the toys changed. First, they brought in a series of belts with dildos attached at the back and cock-and-ball rings at the front. Their captors showed Sherlock how to put it on the first time. After which, he was able to do it on his own. John tried on five different ones, and, in the end, one was put on a metal table that had joined the room. Then came long, thin metal tubes that Sherlock had to force into his cock. They started out extremely thin and short and progressively got longer and wider. Finally, when their captors were satisfied with that, the favorite was placed on the table.

 

New furniture was brought in every day. It started with a wooden table, which John was placed on his hands and knees, and then Sherlock was instructed to stand behind him and fuck him. 

 

The next day, John moved too slowly as they walked him across the room, so his arms were bound and he was forced chest-first onto the table. A cold metal ball was pushed into him and then a chain attached between his collar and what had to be the end of the toy. His head was pulled up at a painful angle, but if he tried to lower it, pain filled his arse. He was left there most of the day and had to listen to Sherlock whimper behind him.

 

When the guards came in the next day, John kneeled and waited for what ever they would do to him, praying they did not put him back on the table. The night before, Sherlock had held him closer than usual, nuzzling against him and tapping the only words he seemed to know anymore on John’s spine.

 

‘Protect, mine, safe, John.’

 

One of the captors stepped forward and placed a blindfold over his eyes. He heard something attach to his collar and was pulled forward. Behind him, he heard a struggle and worried that they were hurting Sherlock. John was lead away from the sound. As he moved, he felt drowsier and drowsier. He could no longer keep his head up and he slumped to the floor as sleep overtook him.

 

When he awoke, he was cold. He tried to use his hands to warm himself, but found them strapped down on either side of his body. He strained against the bindings and felt a sharp pain between his legs.

 

“Ah, the patient is up.” A man peered down at him, smiling. “Don’t worry about the pain, it will fade. We didn’t take anything you’ll miss. After all, what is the use of balls to a bitch?” The man looked up at something and nodded. “It seems it is time to take you back to your mate.” 

 

He felt a prick on his arm and the woozy feeling he had felt when they brought him in returned. The surface he was on started to move. He heard the sound of metal wheels rolling under him. His head rolled to the side just as he passed a sign painted on the wall, ‘Mating Project’ with a drawing of a genome below it. Were they being held by a government agency? Was this some kind of experiment? They passed an open door and John swore he saw Mycroft standing by a table talking with someone; he noticed John and quickly turned away. Could it really have been him, or was his mind playing tricks on him?

 

John was returned to Sherlock. With the help of another, the man who had brought him in lifted him from his slab and placed him on the floor. Sherlock was on him in an instant, draping his body over him and growling.

 

“Easy big fella, we brought her back. We just needed to make some improvements to your mate.” They snickered and closed the door after themselves.

 

Sherlock’s hands ranked over him, searching for damage. John placed his hand on Sherlock’s thigh and tapped, ‘safe, Sherlock, safe’, for him. 

 

Sherlock continued to search until he was between John’s legs. He looked up at John, looking horrified. Tears streamed from his eyes.

 

John quickly reached for him, pulling him almost on top of him. He urgently tapped, ‘safe, safe’ repeatedly, but Sherlock continued crying. The wooziness was becoming too much. He knew he would not be able to stay awake much longer, so he just held Sherlock against himself.

 

John woke a while later to Sherlock pressed against his back. He could feel his hard cock pressing against his arse. He tapped, ‘Sherlock’, on his arm and waited to see if he was awake.

 

Sherlock rolled him onto his back and looked him over. Desperation filled his eyes. They had grown to communicate through sex, letting the other one know they were all right with their bodies. John wanted Sherlock to know he was okay, but the place where his balls had been was still tender. There was no way he was going to be able to let Sherlock fuck him.

 

He pressed Sherlock onto his back and moved between his legs. Sherlock watched him, his hands reaching for him the entire time. John took his cock in one hand and noticed a strange bulge forming at the base. He looked at Sherlock’s cock, and then met his gaze.

 

Sherlock shrugged.

 

He must not have been the only one getting ‘advancements’.

 

John put it out of his mind and lowered his mouth to lick at the tip of Sherlock’s cock. The second his mouth touch him, Sherlock tried to pull him away. John looked at him, startled.

 

Sherlock shook his head, no.

 

John smiled at him, placing a hand on Sherlock’s hip and tapping, ‘protect, mine, safe, Sherlock’.

 

Sherlock’s expression melted and he nodded.

 

John took Sherlock’s hand and placed it in his hair before slowly taking Sherlock’s cock into his mouth. He had never done it before, but he knew that did not matter. They just wanted to be close. 

 

While John recovered, he continued to suck Sherlock off. It was odd taking him in his mouth, but he was glad for the experience. He wanted to be able to please Sherlock any way he could. He noticed that the bulge at the base of Sherlock’s cock was only present when he was hard. It confused them both, but so did most of the things being done to them.

 

\--------

 

Once John was healed and had been checked by a doctor, they started again on, what he referred to as, his training. Every day, toys were put in him and he was made to walk about the room, now on a leash. They had also started making him walk up stairs and get into a kneeling position with his arse in the air at the edge of a table and wait for Sherlock to mount and fuck him.

 

On the first day that they had Sherlock fuck him, he was startled by a swelling near the base of Sherlock’s cock, and recalled the bulge that had appeared lately when Sherlock was aroused. When Sherlock came, the bulge was lodged inside him, filling him in an awkward way. Sherlock leaned his mouth down and bit the back of John’s neck, making him cum. There was no emission, but he felt the same sensation he always did when he came. The fact that he had become erect so fast and climaxed almost instantly had surprised him. He had thought, with the removal of his balls, that he would have lost most of his sexual urges. They must have been giving him something to counteract it.

 

Sherlock attempted to pull out of him, but John yelped in pain. Sherlock froze, settling a hand on hip.

 

“Easy,” a voice said, just out of John’s line of sight. “Stay.”

 

They stayed put. After a while, the swelling in Sherlock’s cock went down enough that he was able to pull gently out of John. They were allowed to settle in their makeshift bed together. Sherlock nuzzled against John and checked his neck.

 

It was sore, but in a pleasant way. He felt claimed and owned by Sherlock.

 

\-------

 

John woke to a loud clang and looked around him. Sherlock was asleep next to him but they were not in their room. They were in a metal box with small holes in the top. He shook Sherlock awake. The two of them looked around for a way out, but found nothing. The box started to shift.

 

While the box moved, John and Sherlock sat in the middle, holding each other. When it opened, hands reached in and pulled John towards the opening. Sherlock growled, but John shook his head. Fighting back had only ever gotten them injured.

 

John was pulled free and sat on the floor. A leash was attached to his collar and a blindfold was put over his eyes. His hips were lifted and a hand reached down to his hole, pulling the plug free. John stayed still while a new one was put in its place.

 

There was a tug on his leash and he followed, not knowing where he was going. He could hear hushed tones around him and then his hand bumped into something. He groped around in front of himself and found a set of steps. He carefully climbed them and stayed still when he was told to. The hushed tones picked up and he felt something touch his legs. There was a quick tapping of a finger to let him know it was Sherlock. The plug was pulled free and Sherlock’s cock lined up with his hole.

 

His cock hardened as soon as he was breached. He groaned and pushed his hips back against Sherlock to invite him in further. Sherlock fucked him with the voices on the room got louder and louder.

 

After they had both cum Sherlock attempted to pull out of him, but the pressure that had held them together the last few times they had fucked was there. John pressed his arse backwards following Sherlock so he would not get hurt 

 

“You’re fine, just stay like that.” A voice muttered.

 

John felt a hand on his head and the blind fold being removed. He looked up and saw Moriarty smiling down at him.

 

“Oh Johnny boy, look how far you have fallen.” He laughed. “I so loved your little show. It seems all the work I had them put in was worth it.

 

John heard Sherlock growl behind him.

 

Moriarty looked past him. “How far you both have fallen. I told you what would happen if you didn’t behave. Now I have you both for pets.” He turned to someone next to John. “Next time, make it last longer. I want to see them squirm.” Moriarty smiled at him.

 

John’s stomach dropped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fic came to be due to the stress of finding out i might have breast cancer. i needed a way of dealing with my negative thought so i wrote a very dark fic.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally finished!!! after far to long a break the final chapter is up!!!
> 
> i just want to say thank you to all the people who have sent me kind messages. if you haven't heard i don't have cancer!!!

After that, they were put on show regularly. Sometimes, John wore the tail plug, and, other times, he wore a belt around his waist with a dildo keeping him open. They liked to keep him on the table while they shoved the metal tub down his cock that kept him from cumming. Then, while a crowd snickered, Sherlock would mount him.

 

A few times, they bound him in uncomfortable positions and wheeled him out, letting the group see him and touch him before Sherlock fucked him. The worst had been the time that they had taken a rope, tied it around one ankle, pulled it up so it went into his mouth and dragged his head back, and then tied it to his other ankle. His head had been forced back at a horrible angle and his legs had been pressed down until his pelvis touched the table. His knee’s pointing out from his hips.

 

He did not mind when they had bound his thighs and calves together, his arse in the air and his arms bound behind his back. Nor did he mind when they had tied his wrist together over his head and then wrapped the rope around each ankle, dragging his legs in the air and exposing him to the room. He could not find it in himself to feel shame anymore. It was only when the position got uncomfortable that he disliked it.

 

\------

 

John was led on a leash into a crowded room, walking on his hands and knees, the tail plug swinging with his every step. He was let to a set of stairs, which he climbed. He found himself on a table that was just long enough for him to put his hands on one side and his knees to rest on the other.

 

He looked around at the people staring at him. They sat in chairs wearing expensive clothing, the woman (and some of the men) decked out in jewelry. He felt a hand rest on his hip and he settled. Sherlock was standing behind him; he was all right. The tail was pulled free and a hand pushed on his lower back. He spread his legs as far as the table allowed and pushed his arse towards Sherlock.

 

A few snickers filled the air.

 

John felt Sherlock line his cock up with his hole and press in. He did not pause before fucking John roughly enough that his pelvis shifted and his cock became crushed against the table.

 

“Is that really the great Sherlock Holmes? He acts no better than a beast!”

 

John ignored the sounds around him. He was going to cum very soon, the way Sherlock was fucking him. He panted and pressed back into Sherlock, as he had been taught. Sherlock’s hands tightened on his hips, telling him he was close. He shifted his hips so Sherlock was thrusting into him at just the right angle and came. Sherlock followed him over a few moments later and fell onto him. John supported his weight, and when Sherlock tried to move away, he felt something stopping him. Instead of fighting it, he pressed closer to Sherlock so they would not hurt themselves.

 

“Now is the time to get a closer look. They will be locked together for about twenty minutes.”

 

People stepped forward and ran their hands over him. He was so used to it; he did not even try to move away. He heard Sherlock’s soft growl as people got more intimate with their touches followed by their captor threatening to muzzle him, much to the crowd’s delight.

 

They asked questions about his bite marks, how they had developed John’s breasts and the knot, the expected questions. 

 

John kneeled there as if nothing was going on. He felt a hand grip his collar and pull his face to look at them.

 

“Well look at you two.” Irene Adler chuckled. “I was told you had become a show, but I had to see it to believe it.” Her grip tightened on the collar.

 

John felt himself behind pulled away from her. It was awkward with Sherlock’s cock still imbedded in him, but the man had managed to pull John against his chest. His growling had gotten louder to the point it was all John could hear. He placed his hands over Sherlock’s to comfort him.

 

“I apologize. The male is very protective of his mate. You can’t be rough with them, madam. I can’t protect you if you don’t play by the rules.”

 

John watched Irene force a smile and back away.

 

The crowd around them moved away following their captor. John leaned his head back onto Sherlock’s shoulder and nuzzled against him.

 

Back in their room, they lay together under the small blanket they had been given, and nuzzled against each other. John could feel Sherlock hardening against him and his body responded. He was just opening his legs in invitation when the door opened. He looked towards the door and froze.

 

Mycroft was standing just inside the door. Sherlock moved as if he was going to pounce at him but John held him close.

 

“Smart.” He gave John a long look. “I’m not here to save you.”

 

Sherlock growled and covered John with his body.

 

“You only have your selves to blame for this. He told you he would get you if you didn’t back off.”

 

Sherlock growled louder and moved to keep himself between John and Mycroft. Afraid Sherlock would lunge at Mycroft, John curled an arm around his waist and held Sherlock flush against him.

 

“It didn’t please me to hand you over to him, but it was necessary. It kept him distracted with this little pet project long enough for me to get some work done.”

 

John pressed his face into Sherlock’s shoulder. There was no hope of ever getting away. If Mycroft was in on it, then no one could save them.

 

“When he proposed what he was going to do I didn’t see the harm. I didn’t know he was going to modify your bodies as he has. As you are now aware, you’re better as pets than as anything else.” Mycroft fixed his gaze on Sherlock. “Goodbye, brother mine.” Mycroft left, slamming the door after him.

 

Sherlock sagged against John and he held him tighter, nuzzling his neck to comfort him.

 

Six months later

 

Sherlock was fucking John so hard that he had fallen from his hands to his elbows. The crowd around them leered at them, a few making rude comments. John was sure he could see a man jerking himself off in the back row. 

 

John could feel his orgasm building and moaned. A sudden noise to his left started him. A door had been flung open and a group of people had rushed in.

 

“Police, nobody move!” Was yelled into the room.

 

Sherlock kept fucking him as if nothing was happening.

 

The room filled with screams as people ran, trying to find a way out. The police cornered and handcuffed anyone near them. A lone figure pushed through the crowd and stood next to the table John was kneeling on. 

 

Sherlock growled and covered John with his body.

 

“Easy Sherlock, I’m not here to hurt either of you.”

 

John looked at the face of the man next to them. He recognized him. He focused, trying to remember whom he knew that had silver hair.

 

“Lestrade.” John mumbled, his voice weak.

 

Lestrade smiled, nodding his head quickly. “Yeah.” He reached out to touch John.

 

Sherlock growled and pulled John back against him. He started thrusting again. John could feel the knot forming and swallowed. He was going to cum. As the knot was forced into him, he came, some of it splattering against Lestrade. Sherlock moaned and pressed all of the way in before cumming, sealing John to him.

 

Lestrade looked at them in shock and horror.

 

They had to drug Sherlock in the end to make him let John go. Then they had bundled them both into a police car and had driven them to the hospital. Over the next few months, John and Sherlock went to therapy and John was given hormone treatment. His chest returned to normal, but there was nothing that could be done about his testicles. The knot that formed on Sherlock’s cock seemed to be permanent, not that Sherlock seemed to mind.

 

Lestrade visited often, bring news of the trails. Mycroft had been caught and put under house arrest. All of the men working for Moriarty had been arrested, as well as many of the guest who had come to the shows. The only person who eluded their capture was Moriarty himself.

 

The data from the experiment was taken by the government and used to cure the test subjects any way they could. John had seen some of the others. All paired off in twos.

 

At first, they had tried to keep John and Sherlock in separate rooms, but Sherlock had just gone into John’s room every night. Slipping under the covers to hold him and comfort him with whispered words. After a week, they had just moved Sherlock’s bed in with John.

 

After four months in the hospital and a safe house, they were finally letting John and Sherlock go home. They would have to go to therapy still, but at least there would no longer be people hovering over them all the time. Mrs. Hudson greeted them at the door, hugging them both close and crying. They had been ushered up to their flat and served tea while she fussed over them, Lestrade smiling by the door. 

Sherlock had sat next to John on the sofa; their legs pressed together, looking around at every new noise. After a while, John faked a headache, and, with a nod to Sherlock, left to lay down in Sherlock’s bed. They were home, and, while nothing would ever be the same, they would at least be together.

 

\------

 

Sherlock waited until Mrs. Hudson had gone back to her flat before he nodded to Lestrade to sit and listen to the thing he had been asking him since his first day in the hospital. Whether he had he seen what they did to John. He had been too afraid to answer before, but he knew if he were going to get Lestrade to understand why he was so overprotective, he would have to stay something.

 

“I was forced to watch what was done to John. He never knew I was just a few feet away from him, watching as they fucked him with toys for hours on end. They forced me to sleep on the opposite side of the room while he cowered in fear. I watched them break him.” Sherlock paused and looked at Lestrade. “They kept us full of drugs. They gave him something to feminize him and make him submissive. Me, they gave something to lengthen my penis and to create the knot.” Sherlock shook his head. ‘There must have been subliminal messages in the static they played over the headphones for both of us. I don’t think I would have broken if they hadn’t been so thorough.”

 

“You can’t blame yourself. It’s Mycroft’s fault.”

 

Sherlock nodded. “I still have to live with what I’ve done.”

 

An hour later, the flat was empty. Sherlock had finally chased Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson out, saying he and John needed rest. This was the first time they had been left alone in months. There was an officer posted at the main door in case of trouble, but Sherlock locked the flat door and checked the windows, just in case. He went to his room where John was napping. During their months in captivity, they had grown used to sleeping in the same place. It had made them feel safe. When John had asked to continue the arrangement, he had felt inclined to accept. It was either that, or he would sleep outside John’s door all night.

 

He opened the door slowly and peered inside. He could not see John in the bed, so he pushed the door open fully. John was naked on the floor, kneeling expectantly. Warmth pooled in Sherlock’s abdomen.

 

“Are we alone?” John asked, his voice soft.

 

Sherlock nodded.

 

John turned around and raised his arse in the air, holding himself exposed with both hands. “Then fuck me. I need you.”

 

Sherlock gulped and stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him. As he stripped down, he thought back to the night several weeks ago when they had both admitted that, despite all the therapy and the absence of the drugs in their systems, they still wanted to fuck like dogs. They had been waiting to be alone, worried that their supervisors (as they called them) would look down on it.

 

“Breed me, Sherlock. I need you to dominate me.”

 

Sherlock groaned and took his hard cock into his hand. He needed lube. He reached into his bedside drawer and found the medical-grade bottle he had nicked from the hospital. He kneeled behind John and coated himself before pushing into him. He felt the other side take over almost immediately. He fucked John senseless, not even fully aware of what he was doing, and god it felt great.

 

So that was what they would do. They would go about their normal lives during the day, and at night, when they were alone, they would regress. Because some training you don’t escape.


End file.
